


Storm and Song

by SeaFeudJagger



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: 9th Century, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Historical, Epic Battles, Friendship, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Mercenaries, Multi, Non-Graphic Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Strategy & Tactics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24037738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaFeudJagger/pseuds/SeaFeudJagger
Summary: Nico is on the run. In his haste to escape he joins a mercenary company and disguises himself as a sellsword to start anew. But little did he know what trouble awaits him in his new life among the Half-Bloods, especially under the leadership of their eccentric commanders.
Relationships: Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Percy Jackson & Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano





	Storm and Song

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a short story I'm writing. Bits of it are inspired by A Song of Ice and Fire, Stormlight Archive, and my playthroughs in Crusader Kings 2. Bear with me, I haven't read any books of PJO since Blood of Olympus, so yeah I have no idea what happens in Trials of Apollo. And I'm not sure if I'm interested in finding out. But I'm still familiar with the cast of the original books and first spinoff so I hope you enjoy reading this.
> 
> P.S. I don't own any of these characters and like my previous story credit of the cover art goes to my sister.

Nico is starting to think he made a huge mistake.

Not entirely surprising, given his recent choices lately but he stubbornly maintained his stance that it was the right decision to make. He was nothing but a burden, holding back those that deserved the prestige far more than he.

The realisation did not come to him abruptly but piled over in his thoughts throughout the years like how a child would stack stones on top of one another until the uneven weight of it all came crashing down in one large heap.

No, it was for the best. The title will now fall to Bianca, as it should have been. Nico might have reservations on never seeing them again or fear their response if they ever caught him, but he did not regret leaving. Of that he was certain.

What he did regret was having no particular purpose in mind once he left and that his uncertainties somehow led him to the middle of a coastal plain, watching as the other army formed lines across the grassy battlefield.

"I shouldn't be here," Nico muttered.

The tall warrior next to Nico blinked and turned to look at him. But his focus was elsewhere.

Nico continued to stare at the ragtag but numerous lines of men wearing fur armor and colorful robes assembling in the field in front of him. Sunlight revealed glimpses of axes and spears carried by a large number among their ranks. At the front, a large contingent sat astride horses, wielding the short recurve bows these tribes were particularly renowned for.

"Is this your first battle?" the warrior asked, not unkindly.

Nico exhaled shakily. "Yes," he croaked out.

The man nodded in return, raising one hand to peer at them as well. Broad and burly with close-cropped black hair, he looked at ease holding his shortspear in one hand and a large round shield strapped to his arm.

Nico wished he could share the man's calm. He was sweating in the leather jerkin and steel breastplate he wore. His long dark hair felt damp underneath the helmet, the metal cheek pieces warm against his skin.

Around him, men clad in similar armor murmured among themselves. Resting, arguing, laughing with one another. Others looked stone-faced at the prospect of the enemy close by and appeared tense. Their own formation already established long before the enemy emerged from their position.

"I understand how you feel," the man said. "If you met me a year ago, I would have felt the same when I was first recruited."

"You've only been here for a _year_?" Nico asked, incredulous.

The man looked sheepish. "A year and a half actually but yes. My uncle is an officer here and asked me if I wanted to join." He held his hand out in greeting. "Name's Frank by the way. Frank Zhang."

"Nico," he shook the offered hand by way of introducing himself. "Your uncle is a sellsword as well?"

Frank nodded. "A captain in the cavalry division. But his unit was assigned to a different cohort so he's not here right now. Grandmother didn't want me to join at first, but Uncle Shen reassured her that I'd be safe here and would return home with riches and stories to tell." He shook his head at his uncle's boasting. "More exciting than being a farmhand, I suppose. What about you?"

Nico hesitated. In truth, he only approached the recruiter of this particular mercenary band because they were prepared to depart the city by ship already when he first arrived at the docks. Their attempt at recruitment must have not been fruitful, the recruiter barely sparing a glance at Nico before deciding that he was fit to join.

Being decent enough with a sword, he would have fit the demands regardless. Still, Nico was just grateful that he managed to leave the kingdom before the city watch could form an organized search party.

Nico didn't really know what to expect when he joined a free company. Judging by the snippets of conversation he overheard from the sailors and few recruits that accompanied him on the ship, it would involve a lot of travel and fighting, so he best get used to his sword drenched in blood.

The thought of bloodshed made Nico slightly squeamish, but he swallowed his discomfort and tried to convince himself that it was at least a start to his new life.

But the _Half-Bloods_ were an oddity even for a mercenary company.

"Looking for some coin like most of us here," Nico lied, shrugging. "Had some memories that I wanted to leave behind, and the recruiter said that they were leaving immediately. Figured it would be best to start a new life elsewhere."

Frank nodded and opened his mouth to respond when suddenly a pair of arms wrapped around his shoulders.

"Gah! Dakota!"

Nico nearly leapt back in shock as a grinning curly-haired man appeared behind Frank and lifted him slightly.

"Zhang! Good to see you!" Dakota exclaimed brightly before letting him go.

Frank whirled around to yell at him. "Don't _do_ that. I could have stabbed you!"

"Good! That means your instincts are sharp. Be sure they remain so once we're in battle."

Frank sighed and glanced apologetically at a wide-eyed Nico. "Sorry about that. This is Dakota, a serjeant of our cohort. He likes to 'surprise' the men every once in a while to try and trick them into killing him."

"You make it sound so malicious, Frank!" Dakota chuckled. "I'm merely training you all to watch your back. Even outside the battlefield. One can never be too sure if those around you hold any sort of ill-intent and might act upon it. I'm doing you all a favor."

"More like spreading your paranoia to the rest of us," Frank shook his head. "You're lucky the men don't really mind it. Octavian would flay you alive if you attempt it on the First."

Dakota scoffed. "Let him try. I'm not afraid of him. I've already done it on the other officers and they haven't killed me for it yet!"

"Oh really? Then does that mean Reyna hasn't―"

"Except her," Dakota said quickly.

Frank tried to suppress a smile. "The joint-commanders _do_ count as officers, you know."

"Yes, well," Dakota cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I wouldn't want to distract them from their duties, of course. Gaining us contracts and managing the army is important work and I would be just hindering the _Half-Bloods_ if I spared anymore of their time. Though I suppose Perseus wouldn't at least castrate me if I did it on him..."

Nico looked bemused as Frank and Dakota continued their familiar exchange, his anxiety momentarily forgotten. What a strange lot these mercenaries were. Not unlike what he expected considering the harsh training regimen that he had to endure for a month before being abruptly told that he was to be shipped off into this land with the rest of the free company.

What were he and the other recruits even doing here? Surely that short span of time given to them wasn't enough to be deemed suitable to fight alongside the seasoned veterans in one of their campaigns? If so, then Nico is seriously beginning to have doubts about their reputation.

From the corner of his eye, Nico noticed a figure striding purposely towards them. He nearly did a double take when he realised it was a woman clad in armor.

Her striking auburn hair made her immediately stand out, more so with her helmet tucked below her armpit. She wore matching armaments similar to that of the rest of the men, including steel greaves over leather boots, a knee-length skirt, and a sword strapped to her belt. The rim of her shield reflected the morning sunlight from where it hung on her back. Pale blue eyes were focused on Dakota, a slight frown marring her comely face.

"Dakota!" she called out sharply.

Nico flinched alongside a startled Frank and Dakota, who didn't notice her approach with his back towards her.

Dakota quickly turned around and greeted her with a shaky grin. "Hey, Gwendolyn."

The woman shook her head. "Just Gwen is fine, Dakota. You know that," she peered at him suspiciously. "Have you been drinking again?"

"Of course not!" Dakota laughed nervously. "W-What makes you say that?"

"Well," Gwen started dryly. "Your breath smells like sweet wine, for one. Just how much did you take?"

"That was last night! I'm telling you, I haven't even started drinking today yet. I swear to Bacchus."

Gwen gave him one long stare, trying to determine whether he was lying or not before sighing. "Then why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be positioned further back with the second squad?"

"Just wanted to greet Frank that's all," Dakota said with a hearty laugh, scratching the back of his head.

"He also ambushed me from behind again," Frank added unhelpfully.

"Of course he did," Gwen rolled her eyes, a hint of fondness in her tone. "Just make sure you get into formation with your squad before the horns blow."

"Will do, fellow serjeant," he waved in a lazy salute.

Gwen nodded absently and was about to turn and leave when she noticed Nico. She blinked slowly as if suddenly realising his presence there for the first time, then narrowed her eyes to examine him more closely. "Do I recognise you?"

Nico shifted uncomfortably, feeling rather exposed under that scrutinizing gaze.

While he was certainly no stranger to fierce women—Alecto and her sisters quickly coming to mind, even his stepmother Persephone would trade barbed words with his father on occasion despite her temperate nature—seeing one garbed not in silk dresses or skirts but instead full armor and armed to the teeth proved to be a rather exotic sight for Nico. From his lessons with Alecto, only Lady Athena of Athens and the Hunters of Artemis garnered such fearsome reputation as warriors in Greece despite being of the fairer sex, both sworn to the kingdom of Olympia.

"This is Nico," Frank supplied, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. "He's from the recent batch that just arrived last night. Nico, this is Gwen, a fellow serjeant of our cohort. She and Dakota are in charge of the Fifth."

The bemused expression cleared from her face. "Ah, you're one of the new recruits. Welcome to the Half-Bloods. I hope your recent encounters with the more... _unruly_ men of this cohort haven't tainted your perception of us," Gwen greeted as she side-eyed Dakota.

"Uh, of course not," Nico hastily reassured her. "Not at all."

"You wound me, Gwen!" Dakota gasped in mock offense. "Our fellow Nico here has yet to meet the Stolls and you've already painted _me_ as the lout?"

"Dakota, you were already like this long before the twins joined us. Don't bother denying it." Pointedly ignoring his pout, she continued. "And I'd prefer not to lose potential recruits again just because those two decided it would be a stellar idea to pelt them with fish guts as some sort of initiation and scared them away. I swear, Reyna was _this_ close to strangling them when she learned about it."

Nico glanced back at Frank in confusion, unaware of the context. He merely shook his head and mouthed, _I'll explain later_.

"Perseus found it hilarious though," Dakota remarked.

Gwen snorted. "Sure. Right before they left rotten eggs in his tent for a day. I don't think he ever managed to get rid of that rancid stench completely, no matter how much he washed it off. Perseus didn't look amused then now did he."

"The look on their face when he and Reyna personally assigned them to latrine duty for three months as punishment was entirely worth it," Dakota cackled.

"And well-deserved. Gods, those three months were just like Elysium," Gwen sighed longingly. "Pity they went back to their old ways right afterwards."

"But not as severe as before," Dakota pointed out. "I think they've learned their lesson."

"I certainly hope so, for their sakes. Thank Jupiter they prefer scouting duty. If they try anything on me I swear I'll shove my spear right up their—"

"I trust everything is in order here?" A calm voice interrupted.

It belonged to a severe-looking man that approached their vicinity without anyone noticing. He observed them with dark eyes under thick eyebrows, a frown creasing his forehead that gave way to a stern face. He stood with rigid posture, hands clasped behind his back and chest out, the golden plate of his muscled cuirass marking him as someone of importance.

Immediately, Gwen and Frank straightened. Even Dakota sobered up. "Yes, Terminus."

Terminus raised a brow. "Very well. I expect all of you to return to your formations immediately after this. And do try to not impale our men until _after_ the battle is won, Gwendolyn. No matter how insolent they may be."

Gwen flushed but nodded sheepishly.

"Does that mean it's about to begin?" Dakota asked eagerly.

Terminus' eyes lingered on the sea to their right for a moment before addressing Dakota. "Just about. The Franks are still deciding on late adjustments within their ranks. It appears they want to move their remaining cavalry from reserve to the left flank."

Gwen frowned slightly. "But that's not the plan we agreed on. They don't have enough horses left to withstand the Venti if they charged on their position."

Terminus harrumphed. "If only Count Boreas' whelps could share your reasoning. He has already agreed with our arrangement, but his sons Calais and Zethes bicker like children, insisting on leading the charge against these savages as 'true Frankish knights' would." Terminus sniffed disdainfully. "Stultus puerorum. Greener than the fields they graze their mounts upon. I pity the people once those lordlings inherit their father's lands."

Nico, who had stood awkwardly to the side when Terminus arrived, now looked up in shock at his abrupt use of Latin. He didn't think anyone besides scholars and the distinguished nobility knew of the language. Especially not from some ragtag mercenary out here in Francia. Just who exactly were these people?

So engrossed was he in his thoughts that Nico didn't notice Terminus eyeing him with interest at the outward response towards his words.

"Perseus agreed to this?" Frank asked incredulously.

"Obviously not. The commander isn't a fool," Gwen retorted.

"He was most certainly against the idea. No doubt Reyna would strongly disagree if she were here as well. But still they argued. I had to leave the command tent lest I discipline either of them for their endless squabbling," Terminus grunted. "By the time I left, I believe they were challenging Perseus' authority to lead over them."

"Ha! I'd like to see them try. Perseus Stormbringer could take on eight men alone, two green boys are nothing to him. They'd need a small army at their heels," Dakota declared.

"Now that hardly seems fair," Gwen protested, her lips curled in a smirk. "Because Reyna the Warsong would surely even those odds."

"If you two are quite done," Terminus drawled. "I believe your squads are in need of your presence. Any moment now they will signal the—"

A long booming horn suddenly blew from behind.

Terminus' demeanor instantly hardened. "Formation!"

Immediately, Dakota and Gwen began shouting orders as they ran to their respective squads. Frank grabbed Nico's shoulder and pulled him along. All around him the men shifted to attention, pulling helmets on, unhooking their shields, and readying spears. A general murmur rose between the ranks, the anticipation that had been building up all morning finally coming to an end as the first signs of battle inevitably arrived. Nico witnessed a myriad of emotions among those faces he passed by, determination and impatience being the most common sight. Some even looked eager at the prospect of battle, while others appeared nervous or anxious, wondering if they'd live to see the day's end with their lives and limbs intact.

Nico was quickly ushered to the far left on the third rank of the first line, Frank situating himself next to him. From his position, he couldn't entirely make out the barbarian army—Venti as Gwen called them—but clearly heard their fearsome roar and the clanging of weapons against their shields. The mere sounds of it nearly made his knees weak. He clutched his spear tightly for support.

Despite his impaired view of the Venti army, Nico could, however, see the throng of Frankish troops to his left answering with a fierce war cry of their own. Armed with swords, axes and spears they all raised their weapons in defiance, then beat them down against their mismatched painted shields in a resounding rhythm. They stretched from the center all the way to the left, the edges of a forest marking the end of their line while the sea towards the Half-Bloods' right prevented any flanking maneuver from either side. Nico also noted that their cavalry _did_ remain in reserve and guarded their rear.

In contrast to the angry bellowing of their Frankish allies, the Half-Bloods remained silent. Save for the commands barked by officers and short bouts of chatter that broke between the men, the cohorts of the Second and Fifth did not raise their voice to add to the invigorating battle cries exchanged by the two armies.

Nico hurriedly unlatched his shield and tried to emulate the stance of the other soldiers as he held it to his side. Blazoned with per pale purple and orange, a flying black pegasus over a golden wreath—the sigil of the Half-Bloods was prominently displayed across the shields of the entire right wing, separating their contingent from the disparate Franks.

It wasn't long before Nico felt the ground beneath his feet tremble from the thundering hoofbeats of hundreds of horses galloping across the coastal plain, heralding the storm that would soon follow. As they drew closer, the Frankish soldiers in front started shouting and raising their shields to defend from the incoming arrows, an action repeated by the rest of their men which then formed into a rugged shield wall.

"Testudo!" Gwen ordered from her position in the front lines.

At her command, the men of the first row all held their shields forward and crouched slightly, revealing only the tip of their helmets and the greaves of their boots from behind the aligned shields. Then the second rank raised their shields above their heads to cover themselves along with the first. The remaining ranks followed in turn as they rested their shields on top of one another, overlapping them together to construct a roof of wood and metal.

No sooner had they formed did the rain of arrows began their descent.

Nico winced as he felt an arrow struck his shield with a dull thud. Individual hits followed in the ensuing volley until the rhythmic pounding of deadly projectiles upon their shields encompassed all other noise in his ears. Using both hands, Nico breathed heavily trying to balance the shield up with his helmet, the impact of hundreds of arrows pouring over their tight formation forced them into place.

The charging horse archers had sent multiple volleys into the center before splitting off down the middle to harass the left and right wing. Waves of arrows flew into the air and met the front ranks of defenders, many breaking against the impenetrable wall of shields. Archers along the second lines, unaffected by this barrage, raised their bows and responded in kind by shooting at the skirmishing Venti. The pained cries of man and horse alike marked their volleys as a success, wounding and killing many of the lightly armored horsemen as they galloped away—leaving a number of unmoving bodies behind.

Nico felt relieved when the order was given to lower their shields, feeling his arms ache from the effort of keeping it up for who knows how long. It also gave him a moment of reprieve to assess the situation around him.

The sight of the retreating Venti should have filled him with elation, but his expression immediately blanched when he caught a glimpse of the _entire_ enemy army marching towards them at a rapid pace. Despite being routed back without managing to pierce through the shield wall, the Venti horsemen had fulfilled their intended role. Covering the main army's advance long enough for them to trudge across the battlefield and quickly close the distance between them.

Spears were lowered by mounted troops at either flank, charging forward at full gallop. A large contingent of footmen sprinted towards the center in loose formation, waving their weapons and shouting war cries at them.

"Brace!" Gwen shouted as she held her shield out and tensed.

Arrow volleys were fired from behind, but it did little to hinder the battle frenzied soldiers. The Frankish army let out one huge roar of defiance just as both armies smashed into one another.

The solid crash of the cavalry charge was deafening, sending shock waves throughout the front lines. Despite locking their shields, men from the first ranks were pushed back from their positions. Many screams were cut short as horses barreled through them or reared back at slamming headfirst into a determined shield wall. Spears smashed upon shields. Swords clashed against axes. Steel pierced either armor or flesh, spattering blood on both sides.

The Half-Bloods of the first ranks grunted and gritted their teeth, desperately bracing against the shocking charge of horsemen shoving against their shields. Their boots dug deep gouges into the earth as they were slowly being swayed back. The second row closed in and added their weight, supporting their comrades by pushing them forward. Several men from the ensuing ranks panicked and slightly retreated with them, flinching at the sudden impact and screams of horses. But at a stern rebuke from lieutenant Terminus behind them, they didn't waver any further.

Gwen growled, sweating profusely as she applied more weight into the arm holding her shield, shortspear held low to the side while focusing all her resolve at repelling the persistent bastard in front of her. She muttered a prayer under her breath, hoping for the moment to arrive as soon as possible.

Mounted troops repeatedly thrusted their spears above the large shields, hoping to stab more of the men behind it but were then littered with arrows by archers from the second line, firing above the shields of their fellow soldiers and slamming into the enemy, blatant targets sitting above their mounts.

Finally, as the impetus of the charge gradually lessened, the loss of momentum forced the horsemen to regroup themselves. The short span of time it took for them renew their attack with vigor was enough for the Half-Bloods to launch their counterattack.

Sensing the opportunity at hand, Gwen grasped the small tube hanging from a chord around her neck, placed it on her lips and whistled loudly.

The wall of shields that had remained stationary up to this point in the battle suddenly opened and bashed forward, drawing surprised exclamations from many of the horsemen in front as they reigned in their panicked horses in response to the abrupt action. They honestly didn't expect much more resistance from this group after having forced them into a gradual retreat, planning to break through them with another assault.

They had little time to think it through as their horses were skewered right underneath them. The Half-Bloods—exhilarated and belligerent after nearly an hour's worth of enduring their charge—began fiercely thrusting their shortspears forward and stabbing straight into the enemy. With a haft shorter than most spears and a blade as long as a dagger, the men found it easy to deeply puncture through horseflesh and quickly pull back to avoid their erratic kicks, targeting the belly and neck specifically to end the poor animal. By chance they would strike at a human leg or thigh, prompting a pained scream from its owner before their horse discarded them in a heap of panic and left them trampled beneath their hooves.

Taking advantage of the enemy's momentary confusion, the first rank slowly but firmly edged forward and began pummeling foes with the metal boss of their shields, shortspears flickering in and out through the small gaps of the shield wall like serpent tongues. The succeeding ranks, having regained composure at witnessing the front withstanding the initial blow, moved forward in support. A clamor of boots marched over the uneven pile of bodies left in their wake to maintain formation.

Gwen watched intently as her troops staggered the enemy back and gained some ground. Parrying the sword slash of a dismounted soldier, she swiftly stabbed her spear right into their gut and pulled cleanly, spilling more blood across the soil. After several more moments she then deemed it suitable enough and blew a long whistle blast.

The front ranks, which had been steadily advancing, halted in their tracks when they heard the signal. As one, the entire row withdrew from their position and fell back, moving in between the following ranks who shifted aside to allow a gap for their comrades to pass through. The second rank now stepped forward, replacing the former front ranks as the lead row of troops prepared to engage the enemy. The remaining ranks closed in and tightened the formation once more, giving the former front liners a brief respite to redress their wounds after being in the thick of the fighting since the battle started.

Before long, they resumed their stance in the last row and waited for their turn again.

The rotation was repeated every so often, the battlefield intoned with sharp blasts coming from serjeants whistling routinely to regulate the flow of troops in and out of the fighting—relieving the front lines with freshly rested troops ready to take up arms at each interval. The maneuver was drilled into the men after repeated training and multiple deployments during the heat of battle, a difficult feat to accomplish for someone untried with the swift movements.

It was miracle that Nico lasted two cycles without getting himself killed.

Nico nearly scrambled away when his turn came in the front. It took every ounce of his nerve to stand there and hold the line. By then, the horsemen had lost a large number of their forces but were still numerically superior compared to them that they weren't deterred. At some point they regained enough cohesion to mount a stubborn resistance against their surprise attack. This halted the Half-Blood's progress just as they reached their original position. Neither side were willing to give ground and so a brutal melee ensued.

All around him spears flashed; when the shafts broke, they were immediately discarded in favor of unsheathed swords. Shields were utilized to attack just as much as defend, rammed ferociously against the oncoming foe. At one point a throwing axe bounced off Nico's helmet, leaving him disoriented from the ringing in his ears but otherwise unharmed when he finally pulled back to make way for the next line of troops.

During his second rotation, Nico barely managed to parry a spear thrust coming at him from a soldier on horseback—giving him an opening. He raised his shortspear to plunge it right in the horse's flank when he felt a sharp sting on his shoulder. Nico flinched, the sudden movement dislodging his aim and instead drove the spearhead to the ground. Gasping in pain, he was able to make out the wooden shaft of an arrow sticking from his left shoulder.

Before he could fully register it, the horseman reappeared within his sights. Having righted himself on his mount the man readied his weapon once again, this time stabbing the spear into Nico's thigh.

He screamed.

**Author's Note:**

> If you hadn't guessed it yet, one reason I made this story is because I wanted to take a shot in writing a battle scenario hehe. Been watching a lot of Roman battle videos from Kings and Generals during quarantine. I know, it's not really great writing or even historically accurate but I had fun thinking of how to describe it in words. Also, the history of the Roman Republic and later Empire is really interesting, I would say even more so than Ancient Greece.
> 
> The other reason is that I'm kind of starved of Percy/Reyna friendship fics. Honestly, I just want to read more about those two interacting without bashing the other characters in turn. They had too little conversations in the books. Again, feedback would be great and I'm interested to hear your thoughts and suggestions about the story.


End file.
